


A Weight Upon the Scales

by TeaAndPaint



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curiosity, Friendship, Gen, Harry has nicknames for everything, Hogwarts First Year, No Romance, Slytherin Harry Potter, What-If, hatty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndPaint/pseuds/TeaAndPaint
Summary: "Potter's tiny. He's quiet. He has weird tans. But he's smart and curious. Why is Golden Potter in Slytherin? Go ask the Sorting Hat. We don't know either."- An unnamed Slytherin, circa 1991.Harry's always had an open mind. Instead of curiosity killing the cat, curiosity leads to the whirlwind called Potter running Percy and Neville ragged. Whoops.





	1. Enter the Boy-Who-Nicknames

_ "Potter, Harry." _

A thick hush falls over the Great Hall. Robes lined with the House colors twist and turn, trying to find the boy of the hour. Whispers fill the air until they are lost in the rafters. The sky in the ceiling darkens as the moon is covered by a cloud.

A step rings out from the back of the new first years. Like a ripple that displaces the calm around it, a boy quietly steps up. The sounds echo in the dead silence.

He is thin; the robe fastened around his neck slides to the side. He is short compared to the other eleven-year-olds around him. His hair messily obscures his forehead and the tips of his ears peek out amongst the darkness of his hair.

Green eyes, almost impossibly pigmented through thick lenses, look apprehensively to the hat. His eyes flick between the teachers before he settles himself on the stool. 

The Hat is placed onto his head and slips past his ears. Thin fingers reach up to steady the Hat before turning pale from gripping the stool. 

The Hat gives an even hum.

_ "Hello, Mr. Potter. Quite a mind you have here. I'd say you could fit well in any House." _

"Hello, Hat. Say, do you have a name besides the Sorting Hat?" 

The Hat chuckles, causing slight vibrations on Harry's head. 

_ "It's been quite a while since someone has asked me that. Why don't you give me a name of your choosing?" _

"I really don't recommend that, Hat. I would probably name you Hatty."

_ "So you would. Now, what speaks to you most from each of the four houses?" _

"I don't know them well enough to answer that. Percy explained the best he could, but he is a bit biased too."

_ "So you've met young Percival? Yes, he can be quite verbose can't he? Don't worry," _ the Hat adds, _ "Whatever you think stays with me and no other." _

Having his mind read is pretty discomforting. Harry never thought the privacy of his mind could be compromised that easily.

"How do I know that?"

_ "I've been doing this for a thousand years, Mr. Potter. I assure you, my job is only to sort and nothing else." _

"Well, if it's gone without a hitch, then I guess. You have to understand where I'm coming from, Hat."

_ "Your mind says as much and there is no harm done or meant. You certainly have the hidden defiance to go to Gryffindor. The house of lions has the brave of heart, but also houses great resolve of mind." _

"Doesn't that tie in with Slytherin then?"

_ "Indeed. The house of serpents most certainly has ambition. But it also has the most unity." _

"That sounds like Hufflepuff then. Let me take a guess, they have loyalty but they also have intelligence in their openness. That ties in with Ravenclaw, which fosters learning and intelligence from what I've heard."

_ "Certainly, Mr. Potter. You have a mind for greatness, there is no doubt about that." _

Harry ponders this; he's Harry. Just Harry. He never grew up with this like there other students around him. What House would allow him to see the magical world on all sides? 

"Mr. Hatty, is Slytherin really evil? It can't be all evil, if it you're still sorting people into it, right?"

_ "Mr. Hatty? Well, you took me up on my offer, which is commendable for someone of your age. Quite curious and thoughtful you are. You want to know why Salazar's house is seen as evil, correct?" _

"Yeah. Nothing is completely evil."

_ "Well, experience hones the mind and magic. You will find your answer in... _SLYTHERIN!"

Harry's eyebrows almost merge with his bangs before he slides off the stool. He waves to Mr. Hatty and walks with a satisfied step when the rip curves into a smile. 

Neville was already sorted into Gryffindor, which is a shame. Harry would have liked to be roommates with him and be in the same house as Percy.

He spies Percy and Neville sitting near each other at the table for Gryffindor. Neville looks a bit bolder sitting with lions. That's good for him.

But the Hall is silent. No one is clapping for him, which makes him a bit glad and sad. He would've been mortified if a bunch of strange people clapped for him for just being Sorted.

But then again, attention is nice. He would've liked some welcoming claps. 

Is it just him, or is the walk to the Slytherin table really long and slow? His heart hurts. 

A quiet clap rings out. The direction is from where he saw Neville and Percy.

He turns back with a weird little whoosh of his cape. Neville's clapping isn't very loud, but he's got spirit! Harry appreciates that. The clapping gets slightly louder and clearer.

His lips are pulled up and he smiles. He sends a quick wave to the Gryffindor table, to both Percy and Neville. Percy's smile is strained, but it isn't outright disgusted. Neville's too.

He mouths, "thank you!" before making off to the Slytherin table.

There is no one welcoming him there, which is fine. And not. The Slytherins just glance at him before redirecting their attention to the Sorting. He'll just...go sit at the end, near that ghost. The bloody ghost must have good stories, judging by his old-looking clothing. 

_ Can ghosts ever change their forms to wear different clothes? Do they ever get to change them? _

The ghost looked vaguely aristocratic, like those pictures of royalty Harry saw in textbooks at school.

"Excuse me, Mr. Ghost, but what is your name?"

The ghost raises an eyebrow at him before turning his attention back to the Sorting. 

"My name is the Bloody Baron. We can discuss more after the Sorting, young Potter."

Well, can't argue with that. Harry nods his head, evoking a tiny twitch of the lips from the Baron. They both refocus their attention to the remaining students. Harry tries to memorize the names, but it's no use. He is better with interactions compared to just looking. 

Should he try to interact with his now-housemates? There's...nothing to say, really. They had stared at him when he walked towards the table and no one moved to make room for him. Slytherin certainly lived up to its reputation, knowingly or not. 

A shiver runs up his spine. He can feel eyes on him. The Sorting is way more interesting than him! He wouldn't mind if it was only a glance, but not for prolonged periods of time! 

He looks up at the teachers, nervously running his hands through his hair. Ah. Another thing he could be teased about. 

The backs of his hands are really tanned compared to his palms. While he doesn't mind the tans, it's hard to ignore how the back of his neck and his hands will stand out compared to his face. 

He's not ashamed that he knows how to work, though. He's worked hard, and he's not going to let mindless teasing from kids that have magic to do their dirty work drag him down.

His eyes meet the eyes belonging to the man with black robes. 

A sharp pain carves its way along his scar. The world blurs along the edges. He blinks, blinks again. His eyes are still watery but the cutting feeling is gone. The teacher is raising his eyebrow at Harry. Harry raises one back.

Weird. His scar doesn't usually act up and his bangs are long enough to cover it, so it couldn't have been something random hitting it. Maybe he'll ask to see the nurse's later, if there is one.

There has to be a nurse here, right?

Harry has many questions now. Is the Sorting over? Is there food? What's going to happen?

Percy will probably know. He'll ask Percy later. There's still a few more kids being Sorted.

He hopes he can go on a picnic with Neville and Percy sometime. Maybe when he's settled in and knows what to expect.

Just a bit more waiting.

He imagines himself raising a glass to everyone with a sarcastic smile. Let's see what makes Slytherin so bad.

Cheers.


	2. Nightly Occurences, as Experienced By One Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to know his dorm. Zabini is there as...an unwitting source of moral support?

"So you're telling me, we live under the lake.

For probably the third time, the Prefect sighs and nods. 

"And because of that, the common room is gloomy. In a castle with floating candles. With magic heating pans. In a school that teaches magic."

"Yes."

"Right. I suppose you'll tell me that the lights are green and everything is black next."

There is no response. Harry stares at Prefect What's-His-Face, hoping,  _ begging silently, _ that his suspicions will not be confirmed. They can't be, right? There is absolutely no way Salazar Slytherin was that tacky, right? Green isn't obnoxiously in your face in the Common Room, right?

They enter the Common Room through the wall in the dungeons,  _ seriously, what was Slytherin thinking? "Ok, let's gather the children down in the dungeons like criminals, sounds about right." _

Harry's eyes are immediately assaulted by the weakest, gloomiest attempt at a welcoming green he's ever seen. What the heck. He can't tell if the green is the theme or the accent; everything just mixes together.

"Sweet Madonna he was serious."

"Potter, what the  _ hell are you talking about?" _

"Something beyond your comprehension, apparently. Is there a good wall I can use to bash my face in or is that too much to ask?"

"What."

"I already see enough green from having green irises c'mon guys. Is that too much to ask?"

"...you do?"

"Do hippos fly?" 

The confused faces really aren't helping his state of disbelief. Whoever said Slytherin is evil must be off their rockers. They don't even know about the wonders of bright lightly lit rooms, much less hippos.

"Obviously not." 

He bangs his head on a wall, muttering, "of course Slytherins are dense misunderstood blokes, gals, and whatevers. Who in their right mind would allow such slander?"

"Potter we're gonna sic Madam Pomfrey on you."

He spreads his hands. 

"Okay, okay, I got it. This was a one-time occurrence anyways." 

The lightness of his tone vanishes as he relaxes his vocal chords and face to his usual nonchalance. All that energy put into being funny and open really doesn't seem to be worth it. He wishes he was with Neville right now. Neville is sensible and has funny plant stories. 

They are lead on the tour of the common rooms. Harry knows he is getting weird, questioning, even disgusted looks from some of the Slytherins. That's okay, for now. Malfoy acted like a prick when they first met, but if it's due to the influence of his parents and the people around him, then Harry is willing to give him several chances.

It's what any decent person would do. 

Speaking of Malfoy, there the lad is, strutting about like he owns the place. Good grief. Wasn't his display at Madam Malkin's enough? Surely he won't act like that when he is surrounded by upperclassmen and teachers that are more knowledgeable and skilled than him. 

Forget his luck, dorming with Malfoy is a given. 

And yes, there's their room. The room is rectangular, though large, as if it was meant for more students. There are five poster beds, white sheets with green blankets. The bedposts are black, with silver accents. There's a rug in the center of the polished wood floor and the ceiling is, well, dark and flowy. 

Harry bets that the view will be amazing in the morning, though he doesn't want to get his hopes up. 

Malfoy and those two brutish-looking boys, Crabbe and Goyle, immediately take the beds to the right of the room. Of course, Malfoy's bed is the dead center of the beds. Their trunks appear right after they choose their beds, which brings more questions to Harry's mind. 

Right, that leaves that Zabini kid and Harry. He quirks an eyebrow and Zabini shrugs. 

"Paper, scissors, stone, then?" Harry offers his fist, though Zabini doesn't seem to know what he's talking about. 

Well, he's probably smart enough to know that it's a Muggle thing. Let's put him to the test, then. 

"This is paper, scissors, and stone," he says, forming the hand motions. "Paper beats stone, scissors beats paper, and stone beats scissors. We can play and let the winner decide which bed they want."

Zabini stares. Malfoy and his goons are probably staring too. 

Finally, Zabini decides to humor him. They play best of two out of three, which Harry wins. He shakes his head at Zabini's disappointed frown. 

"Nah, I have more experience with this game. You pick your bed. Go on."

Zabini picks the second-to-last bed. Harry isn't surprised. Their trunks pop into existence and Harry grabs the potions textbook. 

Light snores float to Harry's ears from Malfoy's side, while shuffling sounds come from Zabini's.

"... not gonna sleep yet, Potter?"

"Nope. I've got the first-day-of-school jitters. I'll read instead."

There's a sound not quite like a sigh of exasperation but not like a wheeze either. Are high-society wizarding kids even allowed to laugh? 

He ponders potion-making.

Making potions sounds like cooking to him. Magical cooking. What if he could imbue magic into regular cooking? Could he make the Dursleys nicer to him by imbuing magic into cooking? 

_ No, wait, Harry, that's probably the wizard's equivalent of drugging food, stop.  _

Ah. Let's not follow that train of thought. 

Harry jumps into the bed and almost springs into the ceiling of the frame. 

Zabini snorts again. Clearly, Harry is a genius. He lands back on the bed, winded. 

He won't be able to live that down, will he? Or, he could tell Neville! That'd garner a laugh out of him! Poor thing looks afraid to enjoy himself. Bouncing on a bouncy bed is one of the best things in the world, right? 

He slides under the blanket. 

The bed is soft. So soft, he thought he was touching the soft fleece blanket Dudley got as a gift a couple years ago. Dudley disregarded it, but had it felt amazing compared to Harry's former mattress under the stairs. He wishes he had it now, since the silk blanket makes him feel uneasy. Really uneasy. 

It's soft and smooth, but cold. 

"I wish it was a quilt instead. One with all of the House colors," he whispers. 

Hogwarts is enormous and he's…just Harry. Undersized, skinny, Harry, in an unfamiliar room of an unfamiliar castle. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the cold of loneliness prick at his eyes. 

With a gentle whoosh at his bangs, the blanket seems to glow through his eyelids. A slight heaviness rests on his legs. This weight is soft as well, but warmer and less smooth.

He opens his eyes to see a quilt, checkered with the Hogwarts colors. There's images of sleeping dragons dotted between the squares. The coldness of his eyes disappear, replaced by a hotness. 

"Potter…why did you choose to show me a Muggle game?"

Harry smiles through the hiccups muffled into the quilt. The rustles of the pages are calming and the trickle of water in the ceiling reminds him of rain. 

"I thought, since this world is sharing magic with me, I'd give back by sharing something from the world I come from."

Zabini's silence seems contemplative. 

"Good night...Potter."

"Sleep tight, Zabini."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with this! Although I have an outline, it took a while for inspiration to hit. Updates will probably be faster now. Probably. 
> 
> Any questions, comments, anything? Feel free to say so! See you around, people :)

**Author's Note:**

> My Beta and I bounce ideas off each other a lot :)
> 
> Comments? Questions? We'll be happy to answer!


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